


Poison Apple

by adhdsoras



Series: Weight of the Sky [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Character Study, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Volume 8 (RWBY)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27235387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adhdsoras/pseuds/adhdsoras
Summary: After the fall of Atlas, Weiss tasks herself with finding the missing members of team ALPN, along with Qrow, in hopes of being able to preserve the little amount of family she has left.
Relationships: Weiss Schnee & Whitley Schnee, Weiss Schnee & Whitley Schnee & Winter Schnee, Weiss Schnee & Winter Schnee
Series: Weight of the Sky [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984198
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. Mind Over Matter

Snow mingled with ashes lightly dusted the streets of Mantle, the bitter chill stinging against Weiss’ cheeks as she moved. It had already been three hours of desperate searching, continuously checking down alleyways, marching through heavily populated civilian evacuation centers, calling out for them - Ren, Nora, Oscar, Qrow - any of them. She’d run from Atlas centres, other specialists, and huntsmen that desperately tried to protect themselves. She could tell they were selfish - they paid no attention to the screams of the citizens, only fighting the Grimm that badgered on top of them and tried to claw at their backs. Weiss felt disgust crawl in her throat as she passed through the burning streets, watching the flames shred through the buildings, stepping over shattered glass as people ran through the streets, dust pressed against their chest, overflowing, crystals falling at their feet. Weiss bit her cheek, watching them pass, recognizing that her own dust supply was running low.

She refused to steal from people who had already lost so much. 

She pressed on, ignoring the numbness that began at her fingertips and slowly encapsulated her fingers through the hours. She was thankful for her pair of gloves, without them she could have been left frostbitten. There was only one evacuation center remaining on the southern part of Mantle, placed delicately on the outskirts, next to the crumbling wall that lacked the proper defense and supplies.

Her mind went back to Jaune, his tired eyes and clenched jaw. He was depending on her - they all were. She’d lost everything, every part of her childhood, her upbringing was gone, brought down by a single request, a few ill-fated words. Her family... the few parts of her family that she had left, gone. The cold nipped at her heels as she came to an alleyway, just across from the evacuation center, a fire raging on the building to her left. She pressed her back against the freezing brick, ignoring the bumps that raced down her arms. Weiss thought of Ruby, her distraught silver eyes, her sudden hesitancy. She had lost Penny for the second time - she wouldn’t admit it, but Weiss knew she was terrified. Terrified that it wouldn’t work, that Penny wouldn’t come back to her, that she and Yang would never be the same. Weiss was scared, too, and the less she moved, the more horror that shot through her veins, the bigger the knots in her stomach became. 

The only thing Weiss could do was move, fight. Keep her breath steady, her heart pounding. 

The only thing Weiss had to offer was living long enough to get her family back together. Not her old family - not the one with the bright white hair and pristine walls - but the one that made her feel alive, loved. They were falling apart at the seams, but Weiss made herself into a seamstress, working with desperate, delicate fingers, dipping a needle in and out of fabric, tying knots, and pulling the thread through the loop. 

_ I can’t lose them, not again. _

Weiss took a deep breath, looking out into the small strip of buildings in front of the facility, watching as Atlas military shot at beringels from the ground, a team of huntsmen zipping around the battlefield. With a deep breath, Weiss ran out around the corner, purposefully stumbling into the street, crashing into the frozen concrete. She screamed out in pain, scrambling up from the ground, a pair of strong hands grabbed her wrist, pulling her up and ushering under cover. She forced herself to take in quick, shallow breaths, making herself appear distressed. The huntsman in front of her gripped her shoulders, instructing her to take deep breaths, to follow his breathing pattern. She exaggerated her breathing, gasping before slowing, taking deeper and deeper lungfuls of air. 

The huntsmen guided her further along, his hand guiding her, pressed harshly on her back, bringing her to the doors of the evacuation facility. Weiss gave a weary smile and a small thank you as the hatch raised. The hunter gave her a small nod. Weiss rushed inside, feeling the warmth of the room as she pressed through body’s of people, keeping her eyes on the moving forms as she passed, looking for flashes of pale pink, a faded green, a boy with eyes that turned gold around the pupil, a lanky shadow of grays and black.

She saw nothing of the sort.

Then, she saw it - a blond tuft of hair, sticking up in two strands.  _ Harriet.  _ Weiss’ heart hammered in her chest, shock causing her to back up, stumbling in the opposite direction, rerouting herself in the crowd. She looked over her shoulder, desperate to keep her in line of sight, only to lose her in the waves of frantic bodys. Weiss swallowed, the loud chatter and the desperate cries of the people filling her ears and she continued moving. She searched the ceiling, eyes grazing over the lip of the dome as she spun in place. There was a small balcony on the curvature of the ceiling, giving access to the rafters, most likely put in place for maintenance to have access to the blinding light fixtures that hung tightly against them. 

Weiss pushed to the outside of the crowd, breaking through, allowing herself to breathe freely.

_ I have to find them. _

She moved gracefully, flattening her dress with her hands, running a hand through her loose hair. She tilted her head up, squaring her shoulders. It was an attempt to look casual, to not draw attention despite her stark white hair, the distinguishable scar that dragged down from her left eye. Each facility had extra rooms that were mostly occupied by maintenance or military personnel, but they were designed specifically for important figures in case of threats or emergency evacuations while in Mantle. 

Being a Schnee gave her some advantages, at least, despite all the pain the surname had brought her. 

She quickly typed the code into the padlock, checking around her shoulder for Harriet, only to see that she was nowhere in sight. Weiss opened the door, shutting it slowly, attempting to be silent in her entrance. This center in particular had more guards stationed outside, which normally she would have found odd, but per its location, she determined that it was because of the dangerous surroundings. She exercised caution, carefully, she peeked her head out in the hall, slipping down the corridor.

The hall was dark, with low, white lighting that made the walls appear bluer than their slate, rough concrete exterior. She looked for a staircase, looking down into the small, locked rooms, seeing assemblies of huntsmen - some with injuries, and others who were attending to their wounds. Wincing, Weiss turned to the right, following down a slimmer passage, running her hand across the wall as she moved, feeling for a door handle, the lights dimming as she advanced. She felt a plack under her gloved fingertips, feeling the sudden smoothness of the material in comparison to the grainy wall. Blindly reaching out, her hands suddenly coming into contact with a smooth bar. Pushing down, the door creaked open, revealing a set of stairs. 

The stairs were steep, compact, requiring large steps and caution. Weiss wasted no time in her ascent, holding on to the railing lightly as she advanced towards the maintenance hall. It was almost a replica of the hallway at its entrance, although this corridor was accompanied by better lighting and loose electrical panels. The walls were tight, making it difficult to traverse. Mantle’s systems weren’t built to be checked or regulated - they were meant to work or fail and never be fixed. She recognized it as she stepped over large pipes that jutted from the floor, passing mechanical wheels that stuck out far from the wall, forcing Weiss to turn to her side to be able to get through. 

The balcony was more of a lip in the roof with a fence around the edge, providing to be more of an overlook. There was a small, black cage at the edge, suspended in the air by a silver cable that stretched across the rafters, put in place to give maintenance manual access to the light, allowing them to fix the bulbs that died or reinstall the fixtures themselves if it came down to it. 

Preferring not to risk attention, Weiss ignored the cable car, opting for footing on the railing that surrounded the lip. She slipped off her gloves and shoes, removing her belts and her overcoat, removing any excess weight from her body. She hesitated before removing her socks, although doing so for the sixth time that night, disgust ran through her as her bare feet connected with the freezing, metal flooring. Her fingers were blistered from her previous attempts in the other evacuation centers, her feet cold and desperate against the beam as she hoisted herself up onto it, finding her balance. She took in a few deep breaths, focusing on the chilling air that surrounded her, ignoring the noise of the crowd below. She shook her hands at her side, trying to rid herself of her nerves, rubbing the sweat of her palms on her dress. 

Winter made her take gymnastics in middle school, advising her of its advantages when it came to combat. She was also the reason Weiss took ballet - a way to maintain grace, to keep balance, a way to move and twist your body to avoid attacks. Although, out of all the sports Weiss had participated in, outside of fencing she found herself partial to ice skating - the cold air, the exhilarating speed. Time felt different on the ice, it was freeing, mesmerizing. There was so little control, it was pure movement, the digging of heels, the bending of legs, leaning in a direction. There was nothing like it, only next to singing on stage, instruments vibrating through your bones. The same exhilaration, the same liberation. 

Bouncing twice on the balls of her feet, Weiss sprinted across the metal railing, jumping at the last second, grasping the frozen, metal bar with her bare hands, feeling the hiss of ice meet her blisters. She kicked out her legs, keeping them straight as her hands connected harshly against the bar, swinging herself over top of the thin pipe, stopping her momentum completely by pressing her hips directly against it. There was no support at her feet, the only sensation beneath her was the chilling air. She took a deep breath, resting her weight against the bar, staring at the metal framework in front of her. With its heating system turned off for what was almost a full day, the works in the ceilings had started to become frosted, getting worse at each location that Weiss had gone too, making each attempt to search the crowd more dangerous. She swung in place, rocking slightly as she held up her body weight. She felt gravity tug at her legs as she moved, her stomach pressed over the top of the pipe, her feet angled straight. She pushed off with her hips, her body swinging around the pole for the second time, the ice burning against her fingers as she swung feet first to the rafters.

Flipping once through the air, Weiss’ left hand made contact with the last hook in the lattice steel beam, her right hand falling uselessly to her side. She raised her right arm quickly, pulling herself up slightly with her left hand. Her muscles burned as she made contact with the second-lowest loop, her feet dangling over the huddled mass as she climbed the beam slowly, excruciatingly so, the freezing sensation at her feet filling her with relief as she was able to hook her right foot under the framework. She pulled herself up completely on the rafters, eyeing the crowd as she caught her breath. The condensation had made her hands slippery, along with her feet, making it easier to slip or fall. 

Traversing the rafter was much easier than getting to them - the metal beams were thick and wide, giving plenty of room to stand and walk. She made her way to the center of the building, jumping over to other beams, pulling herself up higher to some of them, searching for the best vantage point. Her feet slipped out from beneath her more often, a numb sensation covering her hands, the cold biting into her bare arms. She found herself on the lowest beam she could, the lights hanging just below it, and she looked down, watching as people moved in frantic motion, pushing and shoving their way to their loved ones. She sat there for a while, glancing in every direction. She didn’t see any of them.

_ I didn’t find them… I have failed. _

Bitterness rose inside her, the cold on her arms, the cold that started to grow on her legs eroded her heart, leaving her with an emptiness. The thought of Jaune crossed her mind, his possible reactions weighing her down as she numbly retreated to the lip of the dome, stepping with careless footing. He would be devastated at the news, he would blame her. She stopped him from going, she made him stay with Ruby in case Pietro’s soul wasn’t enough, in case they didn’t want to risk his life at all. Weiss knew the moment Penny died in Ruby’s arms what it all meant, the way that Ruby sobbed vocally, her cries echoing through the night. She knew Ruby would do anything to get her back, even risk her own aura, her own strength. Jaune was put there to wither away, to give himself up to make sure Penny could live because they needed her,  _ Ruby  _ needed her more than anything.

The building shook, causing Weiss to lose balance. Her calf slammed against the metal beam, the shot of pain ringing through her as she began to fall. Everything came running back to her, panic shooting through her heart, gravity’s hand pulling her down. She shut her eyes tight, tugging for that tangible sensation of warmth. She searched inside herself for a moment of relief - she imaged Yang’s arms around her waist, her feet barely touching the ground, knowing that she had found her friends, her family once more. Seeing Winter in Atlas again, thinking that everything would be okay, that there was nothing that could go wrong. Weiss forced air into her lungs, the wind wiping in her ears as she shut her eyes tight, bracing for impact as she manifested a glyph beneath her falling form. She imaged the maintenance hall, its closed quarters, and black walls, the way that it opened into the vast expanses of the roof.

Her body crashed into the glyph, the world flipping on its side, warmth enveloping her like warm water. For a moment she was floating, all tangled limbs and wild, windblown hair, the next she was slamming her back against the railing, air escaping her lungs, her eyes shooting open, falling face-first onto the floor, the sound echoing through the evacuation center. She rolled over onto her back, desperately trying to breathe, gasping with an open mouth. 

She moved quickly, hurriedly slipping on her socks, strapping on her belts. She put on her overcoat, desperately working at the clasp with panicked fingers, her eyes darting to the crowd below to see Harriet looking up at her. Sparks of electricity flew off her for a moment, her eyes flashing gold before there was another crash followed by the screeching of metal and a muffled cry of beringel, causing the light around her to die. Weiss swallowed, ignoring the disturbance, using the opportunity to stand and stumble and she put on her boots, jumping into them as she hopped down the maintenance hall. Running, she put her gloves on, feeling the embrace of their warmth wrap around her numb, blistered fingers. She blew down the narrow steps, hesitating for a moment, before descending farther down, the click of her heels bouncing off the wall as she haphazardly went into the basement of the facility. 


	2. Brotherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weiss explores the basement of the Mantle Evacuation Center as the looming threat of beringel's tear into the dome of the building.

The dark hum of red light guided her down the thin hallway, barely projecting low enough on the floor to illuminate her path, but giving her just enough to traverse its dangers. The basement was the most telling part of the evacuation center - the lingering smell of mildew, the poor management of the plumbing system causing water to leak from pipes, building mold in its corners. It was dim, dingy, cobwebs intertwined with the waterworks. The methodical sound of water dripping onto metal accompanied her, joining the harsh click of her heels against the stone pathways. Weiss ducked down corners and under pipes, following a random path, desperate to find another set of stairs or a door that could lead her to the outside. It was a labyrinth, with its twists and turns and never-ending tunnels, no indication of the right way, no way to know if she was simply circling down the same path, but despite her uncertainty, she continued, the echo of her feet pounding against the stone banging against her skull as she moved.

There were moments when the earth shook, though the tremors didn’t start at her feet, instead running from her head down to her toes with its intensive quaking. The muffled screams would follow, vibrating through her ears, racing down her spine, causing her breath to hitch and her body to pause, fear striking at her ribcage. She pressed on quickly, turning left, moving with light, graceful strides, effortlessly ducking down and contorting against the pipes, desperate to get out into the freezing night. Exhaustion weighed on her legs, haunting her every movement. Weiss chewed the inside of her cheek with frustration, ignoring the panicked thumping of feet above her.

There was a sinking feeling in her chest - a feeling that never truly left, a constant, bitter thought that would sometimes rise within her or would fall into the pit of her stomach and cause her to falter. The fear of not being strong enough, of not living up to expectations, a side effect of her upbringing. 

_ Maybe I won’t make it out of here, maybe I’ll just die between the pipes of a collapsing, poorly built Mantle evacuation center and rot for centuries before they find my bones. Yes - that seems like a fitting end for a Schnee - not buried under the rubble of Atlas, but the rubble of the city that it overshadowed. _

_ It would be poetic, wouldn’t it?  _

_ One last thing to disappoint my father. _

The thought of her father made bile rise in her throat, the chilling realization of his demise growing heavy on her shoulders as she vaulted over a pipe, scraping her knee against the brick. She hissed at the contact, rubbing at her knee with a hand before continuing. Weiss was a disappointment, to her father, to the people of Atlas, to the people of Mantle. Winter saw her that way, too, didn’t she? Weiss was a criminal, an enemy of the state. A low life, nothing. Her mother saw her just as she always had, it was one mistake after the next but at least even in her derangement, she held a small, burning candle of warmth. It was always Weiss’ fault, though, she could admit that much at least. Weiss couldn’t blame her mother for her behavior, her actions, even as a child. It was always her mistakes, her faults that drove her family apart. 

Weiss was the dividing line, clean and pristine despite its cracks. 

She felt similar in the case of her new family - bursting at the seams, barely holding it together. There was a damning sensation of being powerless, a sensation that had been consistent in her life, and yet sometimes dwindled. It was pathetic, truly, as she sat on the sidelines, too stunned or afraid to interject, too afraid to stop Ruby and Yang from fighting, afraid that in their moments of anger with festering frustration that they would turn to her and say everything that they had been holding back. You can never tell when people bit their tongue or tear at the inside of their cheeks to stop them from speaking. You can never see their restraint, or know what it is that's being withheld. 

_ You’re all I have left, Ruby! You’re all I have… the only family I have left… _

Did they feel the same? Was Weiss a part of their family, or did they simply need her, instead of simply loving her?

_ There’s always something you can do when you’re brave enough to take a chance - _

But how do you know if it's the right leap of faith or if everything will be alright? How do you save face in the presence of uncertainty and act, move, like it's nothing?

_ How do you take a chance when you don’t know what’s right or wrong? _

_ How do you take a chance when you don’t know how to choose? _

There was no way to know.

The blaring red light softened as the pipework began to melt away, a soft blue light flickering at the end of the tunnel. She approached it with a mix of caution and relief, the only thing at the end of the hall was a rusted ladder. A sound echoed through the basement, bouncing off the pipes and the brick walls - the pounding of feet on the stone floors, the shouting of commands. Weiss ascended the ladder quickly, climbing up by the balls of her feet, scurrying up the rungs, and making it to the hatch above her. As with most Mantle equipment, it wasn’t designed well, the walls between the ladder were too long, creating too much of a gap, most likely designed with the intention for someone carrying equipment, but was ill-fitted for Weiss, who was severely short and possessed a small frame. The hatch was also a flaw, clearly meant to be opened from the outside rather than its interior. It was a round dome with a wheel sticking out from the bottom, that, in theory, with enough strength and balance could undo its airtight seal, but the knob didn’t stick out low enough, nor did it look used with its coating of rust. With great effort, she hooked her boot under the steps, holding onto the wheel with both hands. Her body was positioned at an awkward angle, both her feet pressed against the wall, her hands raised above her head, leaving her bent and twisted. The footsteps become louder, the voices clearer.

With little caution, Weiss twisted at the hatch, feeling gravity tug at her lower back as she moved the stiff, rusted wheel, its creaking, metal groan harsh in her ears. She continued twisting it open, ignoring the burn of exhaustion in her arms and the strain on her scratched knees, the way that her blisters threaten to pop. With gritted teeth she pushed upward, her heart hammering in her ears as she felt the hatch lift above her, tearing her legs away from the wall and the ladder, leaving her to dangle. Panic seized at her chest as she kicked incessantly, desperately trying to keep the air in her lungs. She moved her hands closer together, ignoring the shaking of her muscles as she connected fist with fist, her body swinging as she made contact. Weiss desperately searched for footing, sweat damp on her forehead, her fingers threatening to slip, damning her short legs before catching one of the bars on the ladder with the tip of her foot. With a sigh of relief, Weiss lowered herself back down to the ladder quickly, her feet falling onto the ladder with a harsh clink, almost slamming her face into the metal bars as she barely caught them with her hands. Her teeth rattled against her skull, a small shot of pain coursing through her head. 

Her escape from the basement led her into a small storage room, the walls stacked with shelving units and supplies. She squinted at the bright light of the room, her eyes finding it harsh after becoming accustomed to the dark. Quickly crawling up from the hatch, she shut it forcefully with her foot before knocking over one of the shelving units, adding extra weight on top of it to offer her more time. A container of military uniforms caught her eye for a moment, causing her to hesitate at the storage room door. 

_ I need to get out of here, I can fight my way out of my problems just fine. _

She picked up a gun from a rack, taking a holster and ammunition with her before moving into the outside corridor. 

The hall was completely empty, which was frankly unsurprising considering the amount of attention that should have been diverted to the beringel’s attack on the facility. She attached the holster and ammunition buckle to her belt as she walked, looking up briefly to see the sharp turns of the corners of the hall. Weiss took a moment to pause, teetering the weight of the firearm in her hand, pressing her back against the wall before loading it. It was a safety blanket - in case she ran out of dust, in case Mytenaster was too far out of reach, or she found herself in a dangerous situation where her aura was too low and she was pinned into a corner with no way out.

She pressed on despite the crumbling nature of the building, its intensive shaking, and its violent quaking. She kept her hand above her hilt, the gun secured on her left hip, ready to strike when necessary, nerves biting at her hand as she walked. There were little signs or directions, making it impossible to know if she was heading towards the exit or just down a large tunnel. Occasionally she would hear the sounds of voices or the shuffle of feet, but a majority of the sounds of the halls were buried by the shrieks of fear and the tear of metal as grimm clawed at the building’s exterior. It’d only be a matter of time before they broke their way through and started tearing people apart.

_ Penny… Jaune. I can’t do anything right, can I? _

Her body turned a corner and slammed into something warm, causing a small thud as they fell. Without hesitation she pulled out her rapier, blindly pointing it downward, just above the person’s chin. Fear caused her lungs to collapse, her ice-blue eyes widening.

“Wow, threatening your own brother with Mytenaster? That’s low, even for you,” Whitley spoke cooly, leaning back on his hands, his left knee raised to his chest. He tilted his head upward and to the left, grimacing at Weiss.

_ He’s alive… He’s actually alive. _

Her head was spinning, all the grief that she had for him rising in her chest and threatening to spill at her eyes. She tightened her grip on her hilt, trying to stop the shaking in her hand, still pressing it against his throat. Relief and hope rose within her, mingling with previous anxieties, the newfound realization that with him still alive it was just another opportunity to make a mistake and ruin everything.

_ My brother never had a chance. There wasn’t a second of his life that was his own, and I  _ left  _ him. _

_ I can’t leave him again. _

“Would you mind removing the  _ blade  _ from my  _ neck _ ? It’d be much appreciated.”

Wincing, Weiss returned her sword to its loop on her belt, quickly offering Whitley her hand. He refused to take it, standing up on his own and quickly dusting off his pants. Whitley seemed surprisingly well-rested on first inspection - there were no bags under his eyes or dark circles, he seemed energetic enough to quip, which was something that he lacked early in the morning or after a short afternoon nap. Despite the situation, Whitley seemed to be in good condition, still snarky and annoying, too calm and comfortable, an air of confidence that could only be the result of arrogance. 

Whitley Schnee in the flesh, not a single hair misplaced, just as he always had been.

She was happy to see him, truthfully.

“Well, I’d say it's a pleasure to see you again, dear sister, but considering the fact that you threatened my life, that would be a lie,” Whitley spoke cooly, stepping around Weiss’ left and continuing to walk down the hall behind her. Weiss scoffed, turning to face his back as he started to move around the corner.

“Where are you going?”

“ _ I’m _ trying to escape from a prime example of Mantle’s poorly made infrastructure.  _ You  _ are a criminal who I won’t associate with.”

“How did you even get here? I thought you were in Atlas, I thought-”

“Aw, you thought I was dead? What, did you cry?” He stopped his stride, taking a moment to look over his shoulder at her.

Weiss huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, “What? No-”

“Wow! You actually did!” Whitley let out a snort, covering his face with his hand. Weiss couldn’t help but smile despite his teasing. His energy was refreshing, making her chest grow warm. He hadn’t laughed since they were kids - he had pushed her into the fountain, a week before her tenth birthday, and his laughter had been so light and airy in the spring air. She’d pull him in too, tugging him in by his sleeve, putting his head under the water. He’d chased after her through the water, faking his anger, splashing water in her direction with his hands. She laughed with him, her hair pressed flat against her head as she swam and pushed water blindly. Whitley was so small, only six, barely coming up to Weiss’ chest, so innocent and happy. Weiss supposed she had been the same, though it never really felt like it, her memories blurred and muddied by the screams of her mother and father, Winter’s cold disposition that in some light appeared warm and others had felt freezing. She’d been chastised by her sister and mother for playing in the fountain with Whitley, her father screamed at her from the top of his lungs before calming. He would always do that, vent his frustrations, and then hold her shoulders gently, with calm and cool words of affection. He was kind to her, at least she thought so for a while, that he actually loved her. Jacques always made it hard to tell, too shrill and distant to sucifice as a father figure, and yet Weiss found one in him anyways. 

She always wanted to see the good in him, to think that maybe, just maybe deep down he was a good man, that if she had just been a better daughter he would have been warmer.

If she had just tried to talk to Ironwood a bit more, she might have been able to back him down from his cliff, she could have shown him that they didn’t mean any harm. Maybe Atlas wouldn’t have fallen, maybe he would have kept a level head instead of shooting Councilman Sleet in the skull. She could have stopped him, she could have stopped thousands from dying.

_ Klein…  _ He was always warm and kind, an actual good man.

_ He’s dead and it's all my fault. _

Weiss thought it was always her fault. That had been the explanation all her life - why else would her father tell her mother that he didn’t love her on Weiss’ tenth birthday? A week after she’d been foolish enough to play with Whitley in the fountain. Why didn’t she work with Yang in evacuating the people of Mantle? Amity was a failure, it would have balanced out the argument instead of Yang against the world. She could have stopped them from fighting, she could have gone with Penny to see Ironwood, she could have sought out her sister and put some sense into her. So much she could have done, and yet she was too afraid.

Weiss thought herself a coward, and yet she did so much that was brave. 

Expression - that’s what you could count on Weiss Schnee for, voicing her opinions and her emotions, no matter the recoil or the consequences. She didn’t repress like she used too, she allowed herself to grieve and to love. There was nothing braver than that - to feel, with no restraint, openly cry and scream, appearing weak to some and yet so strong as well. 

She was so brave, and yet, all the while blind to her own courage.

Her smile faded, glancing up to Whitley as he spoke dramatically, “I can’t believe you thought I died! And you grieved me too… you’ll never live this down… I’m too young and pretty, you should know better, dear sister.”

“Too pretty? As if  _ that’s  _ the thing keeping you from dying.”

“Yes, I’d like to think so. Winter’s too old and bitter to die before father, so there’s no way she’s keeled over yet. You on the other hand are too stubborn.”

Weiss laughed a little at the comment, rolling her eyes. There was the sound of footsteps down the hall in front of them, and in a panic, she pulled him by his elbow, moving him into a corner, and bracing as the tremors increased. Her mind went back to Winter, bleeding and bruised, barely able to move her. Was she truly alive? Her aura might have had time to recover but now, but was she deployed? Was she down in Mantle? There was no way to know, but it sparked a light within her, one that made her 

She swallowed her hope, desperately trying to listen to the footsteps as they passed. Whitley yanked his elbow from her grip, walking stiffly down the corridor. With a sigh, she followed him hesitantly once again, tension building in her shoulders. They went around a left turn, Whitley leading the way despite Weiss’ attempts to walk at his side. He kept pulling away, keeping a distance, his arms crossed over his chest, almost as if he was protecting something.

_ Physical contact makes him uncomfortable… add that to the list of things that are my fault. _

_ He should hate me for everything that I did, everything that I didn’t do, I deserve it. _

_ I’m trying to get better, I have to try. _

He stopped at the end of the hall, standing with a door to his left, his eyes flashing to Weiss for a moment. Weiss reached out her hand before retracting it, taking in a deep breath and crossing her hands, wrist over palm, in front of her, “Whitley-”

“Why are you following me?” Whitley hissed, unfolding his arms and stopping in his track, leaning over her. Weiss swallowed, blinking up at him, meeting his blue eyes and seeing a wave of seething, bitter anger, “I’m not like you, I’m not a criminal or a lowlife! I should hand you over to the Ace Ops-”

“You wouldn’t actually do that, would you?” Weiss backed away, her hands raised slightly, her voice trembling. She felt a knot form in the back of her throat, betrayed by his anger and discomfort. Part of her felt like she deserved it, to be scolded like an insolent child for leaving him again and again. 

Whitley averted his eyes, something softening in his gaze as he hesitated, his voice low and mumbled, “I said that I should,” He put his hand on the handle, pushing the door open, stopping in the doorway before holding it open briefly. He sighed in annoyance, resigning, “Come on, you're the one with the sword, you walk into danger first.”

“You… You actually want me to come with you?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, you never take no for an answer.”

“That’s one thing we have in common.”


End file.
